


Rebound

by Dractonis



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Break Up, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dractonis/pseuds/Dractonis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Novak doesn't go out on the town or drown himself in ice cream when he gets dumped, no, he throws himself into an endless stream of productivity and relentless training. Waiting for the breakdown. He's also completely and utterly sexually frustrated. It's really not a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebound

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and did not happen, no implication is intended in regards to the real people involved.

Novak honestly didn't see it coming. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. He supposed it would feel better if it were a natural degradation of their relationship over time to the point where they could mutually separate and remain friends, something they could both accept and acknowledge had reached a parting moment, a change in direction in their respective busy lives.

But Novak didn't feel that way. Novak, in his complete boyish naivety, thought everything was ok. It's all absolutely so horrifically wrong and born of ill-judgement that he wants to laugh. Amongst the turbulence that is his professional tennis career and the chaos of public relations and sponsorship deals, his family and his relationships are his constants.

Because that's how people think, how he thinks. There are those things that you cannot control and depend on remaining consistent in life’s many equations, ineffectual variables, and there are those people you can come home to at the end of the day and rely on. That is, till they utter those defining words.

"Nole, we need to talk."

He feels really, really stupid. There aren't words in his impressive five language repertoire to quite describe how he feels right now, but he'll try anyway, here's a list:

Stupid, embarrassed, ashamed, disappointed, heartbroken, regretful and lonely. 

He's so fucking lonely. And as much as he loves his family, it’s not a gap they can fill. When you've been with someone for such a long time you fall into a lull of false securities and take things for granted without realising it, then they shatter your world with a few sentences and suddenly everything changes.

Too bad Novak can't afford the luxury of drowning himself in a tub of ice cream and moving on. He has the tour to contend with, has to keep moving. He misses the companionship and the almost omnipresent feeling of a partner. Doesn't know how to deal with being alone.

Jelena seems happy. Coping. Why wouldn't she be, she left him after all.

_"Nole, I love you, and I want you to know that I will forever be grateful for everything you have done for me, everything we've shared. I will never, ever forget that. But, I can't be with you, I can't do this. Can't share you with the tennis. I've thought about it a lot and I really can't see any way past this, I can't ask you to give up your dream. I'm sorry."_

To say he was shocked was an understatement. He'd expected bad news when she'd uttered those foreboding words to him but, not this. She’d never mentioned it to him, that she was having these thoughts. He’s angry at her as much as he is crushed by it all, for not giving him a chance to make things right, to choose. It was so surprising and unexpected to him that a month later, he thinks he's still yet to fully comprehend.

He hasn't cried yet. Usually he'd say that's a good thing but it doesn't feel that way on this occasion, it's not a good reaction; he hasn't outwardly reacted at all. He feels like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode in an outburst of emotion when he finally wakes up from his stupor and realises that he is alone, that she's not coming back and she's moved on. Forever.

He terrified of his own emotions as he steps around himself on eggshells; how do you avoid yourself? The day is okay, he keeps busy, picks up various obsessions. He's learning Spanish this week. Novak doesn't go out on the town or stuff himself silly when he gets dumped, no, he throws himself into an endless stream of productivity and relentless training.

Waiting for the breakdown.

It is 100% going to happen, he knows it can't be avoided and yet he's prolonging the inevitable fallout. He is also aware of the fact that there is a significant chance that it will occur on court, most likely to the chagrin of his racquet. If anything it’ll be a marketing opportunity for HEAD to promote the resilience of their tennis equipment.

He's also completely and utterly sexually frustrated. It's really not a good thing. Novak came to terms with the fact that he's attracted to both women and men a long time ago. It is of course a secret to most, since his parents wouldn't quite be accepting, he thinks.

It's never been an issue for him though. Regardless of the attraction to his own gender he has never taken any steps with men, sexually. Even if he'd felt the desire, he'd always had Jelena, or another woman before she entered and permanently etched her existence into his heart. The fact that he no longer has the liberty of sleeping with her whenever he feels like it is of great concern to him.

Yes, he reasons, there's a whole queue of eligible women waiting to sweep him up. He's an opportunistic guy and he considers that he could take complete advantage of this and exploit his relationship hurt at the same time, since women are seemingly suckers for broken men.

...only, he doesn't want a woman. He doesn't want soft skin, curves, and gentle hands. He wants rough, hard edges and violent. Wants to feel stubble against his cheek, calloused grips on his cock and the lurid scent of sweat in the air. Wants to be handled in a way that only a man can provide for him.

He's not sure what's brought about these feelings. Current theories of his range between Jelena breaking his heart turning him off women completely or, alternatively, his weak and vulnerable state inherently craving a domineering male to alleviate the pain. Regardless, psychology isn't his forte and Novak isn't the type of guy to sit and mull over these things.

Typically, he listens to his heart and he takes action. Albeit, that approach doesn't quite work in this situation, because if it did, he'd be jumping the first guy that came into the locker room.

And that, right there, is another problem in itself. He's on a world tour with dozens of other like-minded, very athletic, very attractive men. Novak feels like a dirty slut when he looks at the U.S open draw and can imagine doing most of the guys in his half.

His performance is slacking, he knows. He's tense and frustrated and needs a _release_. He's wrought emotionally and physically and wishes for an outlet, something tennis isn't offering him. Why should it, tennis is responsible for this situation to begin with. Fuck you, tennis.

Marian has just about reached the end of his extremely short tether when he tells Novak to "get the fuck off my court and go fuck somebody already."

He thinks that if it weren't for the obvious scandal opportunities, Marian would have already hired a prostitute to entertain him. But it'd be a female, and that just won't do.

He reaches the quarter finals of the US open before he realises in a thundering epiphany what it is he needs; a rebound. He smacks himself at his unending stupidity and obliviousness. The solution is so incredibly apparent, now he just needs a strategic plan to get there, and a target.

He thinks back to the draw and the various names of fellow players. Most of them are taken or invested in some sort of relationship. He's only half disappointed in himself when he notes that he's not perturbed in any way by that reality. He’s really not in the mood to be morally conscious.

A few names stick out...

Del Potro; too tall, too innocent. Berdych; not at all too innocent but probably too much like Novak with his sense of humour, he doesn't think they'd work. He likes the Czech's looks though. Isner; too American. Ferrer; short and gentle, too feminine. He scrawls brief notes alongside each name.

Murray is just **awkward**. Aside from this, Novak loves him too much as a friend to risk anything there, and then there’s Kim. He would though, for the record. Would get down on his knees and suck Andy dry if he asked. He reviews his work some time later and shortlists him anyway.

Federer... Novak feels like he'd never hear the end of it if THAT happened. His pride forces him to strike out the Swiss's name. He'd probably be a soppy romantic in bed anyway. Oh and he's married, with children. Yeah.

That evening after his win he's sat in the player's lounge frowning down at his list of potential fuck mates. It's glaringly empty and he's disregarded each person in some way or another by the time he's finished. He groans in frustration and throws his head back, exasperated. Which is when he hears...

"Hola Nole!"

Suddenly there's an angelic, drop-dead gorgeous, tanned, muscular, beauty of a Spaniard peering curiously down at him and his heart feels strangled. He kicks himself again, his stupidity cock-blocking him for the umpteenth time this month. His mind is drowning in aesthetic adjectives as he absorbs the sight of Rafael Nadal.

When he finally comes back down to earth he quickly glances at his list and swears under his breath when he notes the quite blatant emission of Rafa's name from his "who should I fuck?" list. By now, he's been silent for too long and the other man has noticed his attention is currently focused on what looks like the back of some kind of receipt.

Rafa makes a sound of disgruntlement and wrestles his way around the table to force himself onto the sofa next to Novak. "I say hi, you no hear, no glad to see me? What that you have there hmm?"

Rafa grabs the crumpled list of names from him before he can react and Novak shrieks like teenage girl in a strangled sound of protest. It doesn’t work because Rafa is already in the process of scanning through the various names with that look of complete puzzlement on his features that often makes an appearance when the press ask him something he doesn't understand in English. Novak thinks that look is the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Not wanting to cause any further suspicion he simply sits back, raising his feet to rest on the table, folded at his bony ankles. He feigns nonchalance in twiddling his thumbs and glares a hole in the table.

Rafa eventually puts the old receipt with the chicken scratch handwriting back down onto the table in front of him. He pauses for a second before turning back to the Serb.

“Where is me?”

“Huh?” Novak looks up in bewilderment.

Rafa bites his lip before responding “this”, he gestures at the paper, “…I don’t know if it some kind of voodoo list so you can win tournament, but I no there.” He frowns again.

Novak swallows slowly, his palms sweating as he claws his hands against his Armani jeans. Fuck. “Uh yeah, about that…”

“Wait!” Rafa seems to have a moment of realisation as he double checks the list again. He quotes one of Novak’s commentaries, reading aloud in his Spanish accent “Berdych: nice eyes, blondie, tall… Nole why this matter? He gonna beat you ‘cos he has blonde hair? I not understand.”

Novak is staring deadpan at Rafa. He understands that the other man struggles sometimes with the language barrier, but seriously. He’s staring at a list of people Novak wants to fuck, with accompanying explanations of why that is or isn’t a good idea, and his only comments so far have been to question the absence of his own name and the relevance of Tomas’s blonde hair.

Usually it’s endearing, but right now, in this precise moment of pure sexual frustration, pent up emotion and physical exhaustion, it’s nothing short of fucking infuriating.

“Are you serious? Fuck you Rafa.”

The Spaniard’s eyes go wide and his mouth is agape in shock, he stutters something out before Novak speaks again.

“It’s a list of people I wanna fuck ok. You happy now? I’m horny and I want sex, and it’s gotta be with someone that has as much to lose as me, that won’t sell me out. Someone with a dick, too.”

Somewhere in Novak’s thick skull he can see a mini Marian shaking its head at him in disappointment and asking him what on earth he thinks he’s fucking doing. Novak doesn’t really know, but Rafa’s eyes are piercing him and, have they always been that dark? Gone is the boyish charm and innocence, Rafa’s wearing his serious face, only missing the sneer from when he serves.

“So, you still not answer my other question – why I not on here?”

Now it’s Novak’s turn to be shocked. His heart is pumping blood impossibly fast and he’s vaguely aware of feeling like he could pass out any moment. What is Rafa suggesting? Is he suggesting anything, is he looking into it too much? He's too shocked to answer and continues to stare at Rafa as these thoughts tumble around his sex-muddled brain.

Rafa grunts in frustration and makes a move to snatch the biro from behind Novak’s ear. His hands briefly touch the skin there and Novak’s eyes flutter closed with a gasp. He wants that touch indefinitely, not a fleeting brush of fingers against skin.

Rafa is furiously writing something down on the receipt when Novak opens his eyes again. Then he’s done, standing up and storming off without another word. Novak’s first reaction is to panic when he reflects on what he’s just said to Rafa, about how he’s probably gonna go tell Federer now and Roger will probably go tell some reporter and then… he spies the handwriting on the note. Rafa has added something.

_“Rafa – great in bed, sexy Spaniard, available no strings 10:00pm room 121, see you there. x”_

 

He gulps.

 

* * *

 

It takes every inch of willpower that Novak possesses to not run back to his hotel room and get himself off in the shower thinking of Rafa. He’s so wound up he feels like he needs to chain himself to his bed watching the _Teletubbies_ till 10 o’clock rolls around.

He can’t believe this is actually happening, at his good fortune. God, he’s going to fuck Rafa. Well, Rafa is going to fuck him. With this realisation he spirals into a never-ending doubt of who’d be fucking who for the next three hours before he starts to worry about what to wear. Does it really matter? He’s hardly going to be needing clothes.

He makes an effort anyway, slipping into a fitted black, silk shirt with a cut out v neck and keeps the same jeans on that he had earlier. He shoves on some trainers out of laziness, he likes the contrast. Gelling his thick black hair into a more acceptable style (it’s getting long again…), he shaves and sprays deodorant before nodding one last time at his reflection in the mirror.

“You can do this Nole, you want sex no? This isn’t a date, God.”

He picks up his phone and keys and heads out of his hotel room. By the time he reaches Rafa’s floor he’s pondering the miracle of how he managed to get here without either being seen or running someone down.

He knocks on the door and holds his breath.

He hears calls of “si si” and some rustling and then Rafa is standing in front of him with a smile, “hey you.”

“Uhm… hi. Look, I dunno if I got the wrong idea from what you wrote but I… ouf,” he exhales the breath he’s been holding when Rafa forcibly pulls him into the room.

“What you gonna do stand there and talk all night, you want sex no? I thought maybe you shut up for once. Go sit down.”

Between the man-handling and the harsh words Novak’s already hard as he tries to regain his composure. He shuffles over to the bed and sits down, looking at but paying no attention to the flickering television screen where Rafa has been watching the football match.

The man in question enters the room again a couple of seconds later with a bottle of vodka and what looks to be two extremely large shot glasses. He sees the look of trepidation on Nole’s face before he elaborates.

“Wanna make it fun no? Get drunk, have sex, best night. Best time.”

“Why do you need to get me drunk to fuck me, should I be afraid?”

“Are you?” He asks seriously.

“No… yes. I don’t know, a little? I’ve never done this before, with a guy I mean. I don’t know what to expect.”

Rafa looks unhappy at this news as he places the aforementioned articles on the bedside table and sits down next to the Serb, the mattress sinking under his weight. “You never say this to me earlier.”

“Does it matter?”

“Si, matter very much. First time should be special no? Not like this.” He shakes his head and pours them each a drink, passing one over to the younger man wordlessly before knocking his own back smoothly. They repeat this three times before Rafa sighs and resumes the conversation.

“I think maybe, maybe you should go.”

“Please Rafa, I want you.”

“No, not gonna do that for you, it’s not right. You aren’t even thinking straight.”

“Fuck you, you wanted to earlier!” Nole swears in anger and stands up to pace the room.

“Hey, I not know this earlier, I would not offer if not. I still want to, but is not fair for you.”

Nole turns around in perplexity at these words, almost crying in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me, not fair for me? YOU are the one that’s so hung up about me being inexperienced, I just wanna get fucked, why is that so much to fucking ask, or am I not good enough for you either?!”

“Nole, please…” Rafa closes his eyes and drops his head into his hands as the other man carries on his tirade.

“No! If you make me leave I will go find someone else, I don’t even care. Andy, Roger, Tomas, someone’s gotta want me right? And if that doesn’t work I’ll just go find some stranger instead. Is that what you want, how is that any different than this? If you don’t fuck me I’ll get someone else to!” He ends with the implied threat, glaring over at Rafa.

“You are blackmailing me Nole?”

“Right yes, I forget I need to blackmail people into sleeping with me. Gets better.” He laughs bitterly.

“Stop, I did not mean that. You make words I not say, please. Come back, come sit down.”

Nole obeys as he slides back against Rafa, feeling dejected after his outburst. Rafa alters his position on the bed, turning to face Novak as he reaches up to stroke that spot behind his ear again, large hands running through his soft hair.

“Calm down, everything gonna be ok. I make it ok.”

And somehow, Nole believes him. Rafa’s leaning forwards and using his other hand to pull the Serb towards him, crushing their lips together with unrestrained emotion.

There’s nothing to stop the groan Novak sounds at finally touching, feelings someone’s hands on him again. Feeling wanted, needed. And God, it feels good. Rafa wastes no time in deepening the kiss, massaging his tongue expertly and caressing his face as he lowers him onto the bed carefully. Novak growls “stop it, stop being so gentle. I want to fuck not… this, too intimate. Too close.” He tries to mask the break in his voice and the feelings their actions are conjuring.

Rafa notices but says nothing as he leans up to take his socks off. He lines them side by side on the ground like this is a fucking tennis match and he’s rearranging his water bottles or something. Novak hopes he’s not going to be picking at his shorts every two seconds as well.

“Then better get undressed no?”

“Tell me.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me to take my clothes off.” Novak answers with a quiet breath.

“You like being told what to do? Why, you no listen anyway.”

Novak shrugs.

“Well I not have all night, take clothes off and lie down. Touch yourself till I get back.”

Novak doesn’t need to be told twice. He tears his clothes off quicker than he does at the end of a slam he’s won as Rafa departs into the bathroom. Stripped down to his bare skin he settles himself more comfortably on the sheets, lying back with his legs parted. He starts off stroking across his chest with his left hand, dusting over the soft hair there and paying close attention to his nipples as his other hand reaches down to grasp his cock.

He takes it slowly, not wanting to bring himself too close and ruin the night. He relaxes more as he strokes himself; this he can do. He bites his lip and lays his head back more, arching his back as Rafa comes back into the room. Rafa drops what he’s holding at the sight before him, thrown off by the display. “Fuck” he mutters as he bends down to retrieve what he’s apparently spent a timeout looking for; lube and condoms, of course.

He crosses the room in record speed and lies across from Nole, both naked now, who has stopped his actions at the interruption. “Did I tell you to stop?”

Novak shakes his head and resumes touching himself, wordlessly staring at Rafa.

Rafa leans down to whisper into Novak’s ear, warm breath grazing over hot skin “I gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t play tennis for rest of season.”

“God…” Novak holds back a sob of frustration as his eyes clench shut, and then Rafa is climbing over him again, lips sealing against his. He apparently got the message earlier, because there is nothing gentle about this now. His hands are all over Novak, pulling, clawing skin, tugging on his hair. Rafa is biting and sucking every inch of his body and he loves every moment of it.

The Spaniard pays close attention to the Serbs neck, lowering himself down to leave a mark there as he drags nails across his collar bone, other hand crushing against his hip. Novak moans in response as the pain and pleasure combine to push away everything he’s been feeling for the past month, he’s drowning in it all.

He can feel Rafa’s hard cock, warm and ready and pressing against his thigh. He has a sudden urge to taste him, keeping in his submissive role he asks “can I suck you Raf?”

Rafa groans in response, turning them over so that Nole is on top before roughly pushing him down. He’s about to force the younger man onto his dick without a second thought before he remembers that this is the first time Novak has done this, catches the glimpse of hesitancy in his eyes. He strokes behind his ear again to reassure him before saying. “Just do what you like, what feels comfortable.”

Novak nods before lowering his head the remaining distance and taking Rafa into his mouth. He’s big (no surprises there), and he struggles to take him all in. Rafa bucks his hips in reflex to the sensation and Novak gags, spluttering and coughing as his eyes stream from the intrusion.

“Sorry Nole, sorry. Are you ok?”

Novak nods in embarrassment. He feels stupid. Again.

Rafa notices and guides him. “Here, do like this.”

He reaches forward to gather Novak’s free hand and places it at the base of his cock, before lowering his head back down, fingers entangled in the abundance of hair there.

“Now you use hand and mouth at same time, less chance of choking no?”

Novak engulfs him again, this time sliding his hand up and down the base of Rafa’s cock, alternating between pumping him in a slow, teasing rhythm and handling his balls as he sucks enthusiastically.

Rafa is appreciative if the sounds he’s making are anything to go by. He’s struggling to keep still, not wanting to thrust and choke Nole again when he says “you doing fine, just like that. Good boy.”

Nole works him for some time like this before speeding up his pace, hard himself as he enjoys the feel of Rafa filling his throat and his taste filling his senses. Rafa stops him suddenly after he sucks in his cheeks following a particularly hard tug “Ok ok stop, stop now.”

Nole’s eyes flash with hurt as he looks down “why, was I not good? Tell me how you like it, I wanna make you happy.”

Rafa laughs without humour as he shakes his head, “no, you are great. You’re so hot Nole, so good. If you want me to fuck you, you gonna have to stop with that dirty mouth, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now lie back down.”

Nole follows wordlessly again, resuming his earlier position and spreading his legs without realising it in anticipation.

“Have you ever, you know…” Rafa asks as he picks up the lube and gestures vaguely in between Novak’s legs. He’s taken aback briefly before answering worriedly, “no, never.”

“Ok, just relax. I take it slowly and you tell me when you feel ready.”

“I’m ready now!”

Rafa laughs again before lowering himself back down over Novak and claiming his lips. He distracts Novak in the kiss as he applies lube generously to his long fingers. Novak jumps and makes a surprised sound when he feels cold fingers circling his hole, questioningly. Overcoming the surprise he bites at Rafa’s lip and pushes his hips forward. Rafa groans and restrains himself from just pushing himself in right now.

“Don’t do that, will hurt if you rush.”

“Don’t care, want you now.”

“You will have, shut up and kiss me.”

“You always talk this much in bed?” Novak challenges.

“You won’t be talking when I fucking you into the mattress.” Rafa retorts with a sneer and pushes a finger roughly into Novak to make his point. Novak chokes from the invasion and grabs Rafa’s shoulder for support.

“So you can be quiet hm. You like that? You like my finger inside you?”

“Yes, god Rafa. More, please, more.”

He’s begging openly by the time Rafa is at three fingers, pulling him apart piece by piece as he stretches him.

“Please, I need you inside, now. I’m ready. Fuck off Rafa, fuck you, fuck me. Fuck you.”

“Which is it Nole?”

“JUST FUCKING FUCK ME ALREADY!”

Thinking that he’s prepared Nole enough Rafa sits back onto his heels and tears open the condom wrapper. Nole’s eyes haven’t left his as he slides it on, adding extra lube and rubbing himself in a few strokes as an extra measure.

Despite the fact that he’s literally been begging Rafa to fuck him all day, Novak suddenly feels incredibly vulnerable. There’s something about a guy twice your size pulling on a condom and settling himself in between your spread legs which is both exhilarating and terrifying. He briefly wonders if this is how Jelena felt…

“Hey.” Rafa says softly as he cradles Novak’s face in his hands, sensing his nerves.

“Don’t worry, is just you and me. Relax, I promise you will like. Tell me if you want me to stop and I will.”

Novak nods in response and takes a deep breath, wrapping his slim arms around Rafa’s neck, there’s sweat pooling there. His heart races as he tries to relax, does his best to as he knows panicking will only make this harder. The familiar scent of Rafa at this proximity helps to calm him down. Thirty six hugs at the net and countless more photoshoots get you used to a guy.

And then Rafa is pushing forwards, the head of his cock breaching Novak’s opening in one swift move. After passing the initial resistance he seats himself inside completely, uttering a stream of Spanish and resting his forehead against Novak’s shoulder as he tries to control himself from tearing Novak apart from the inside. It’s just as well that Rafa is experienced enough to take things slowly because Novak’s face is contorting with clear pain at the intrusion.

“God Novak you feel so good, so fucking tight. Could fuck you all day, wanna move so bad.”

The inflection behind the way Rafa says his name and the other man’s voice thick with arousal make his stomach do flip flops, his breathing is laboured as he responds behind gritted teeth “fucking get on with it then.”

Rafa’s response is almost immediate; he slides out slowly before slamming himself back in. Novak gasps at the rough treatment. Rafa sets up a rhythm, gliding in and out, grabbing at Novak’s hips to angle him better, slinging the Serb's legs around his shoulders and leaning down to kiss him again.

Novak gasps at the new angle, feeling Rafa impossibly deep inside him, balls slapping against his raised ass. He’s aware of moaning, he’s not sure whether it’s him or Rafa but it’s definitely deep, manly and just fucking perfect. He falls apart in the feeling of Rafa devouring his skin, hands bruising hips and teeth harshly tearing at his throat. Can’t believe he’s been missing this.

“So good, so fucking good, you fucking slut. You wanted this so bad didn’t you?”

Novak cries at Rafa’s words, pushing his hips back to meet Rafa halfway as he tries to steady himself on the bed, his body crushed over and over with every thrust. His thighs are straining against Rafa’s shoulders as the Spaniard ruthlessly thrusts into him.

His mind is a haze of pleasure, pain and emotion that he can’t even begin to decipher as he pours out meaningless words to Rafa.

“God yes. Need this, need you. Need you Raf.”

Rafa catches onto that though, in the midst of it all. He stops thrusting and lowers Novak’s legs.

“What, no, why’d you stop. Nonono.” Novak is whining in complete frustration as he pushes pathetically against Rafa, trying to coax him into returning the motion.

“Nole, this is just sex si?”

“What the fuck Rafa, are you serious right now. Why are you asking me this in the middle of this?! Fuck now, talk later.”

Rafa frowns but complies. This time, he takes care in re-entering, stroking Novak’s sides as he does so. The breath is knocked out of Novak as Rafa sheaths himself fully. He sets a slower pace, concentrating on pumping into Novak as deep as he possibly can with every thrust of his hips. He rests his head against the Serb’s shoulder, lips falling against the warm skin there as he reaches down to take his straining cock in his hand.

Novak’s eyes are closed in pleasure as he lies back, completely open for Rafa as he touches that spot with every stroke over and over, long and deep inside. He feels impossibly overwhelmed with every sensation Rafa is giving to him and is already on the edge of consciousness before he adds to that by taking him in hand.

He cries at the feeling, pleading with Rafa in broken Serbian to get him off but begging him not to end this at the same time. Rafa can feel himself getting close as he fists Novak, so tight and hot he can’t hold out for much longer. He wants to finish Novak off first though, wants to make this a first time he’ll remember with good feelings.

“Venido por mí, Nole.”

Novak is a whimpering mess by this point, lying helplessly underneath Rafael Nadal as he unravels him. He understands the Spanish command though and he’s coming hard and fast. Watching the young Serb fall apart drives Rafa over the edge and he thrusts into Novak again in one hard motion, burying himself as he finishes, hopelessly trying to drive himself deeper inside.

He’s breathing heavily as he recovers from his orgasm, slowly pulling out of Novak when he notices wetness beginning to cover his neck. He feels shaking shoulders next before finally hears the strangled sounds of Novak trying and failing to constrain his emotions.

“Sorry, sorry” Novak is apologising as he begins to sob uncontrollably, every feeling he’s pushed back for the last month hitting him at once now he’s had the release he craved.

 “No no, stop. Please don’t cry. Nole, I hurt you?”

Rafa embraces him again, placing gentle kisses against his forehead as the Serb tries to claw his way closer to Rafa. He’s crying too much now to form any coherent sentences so Rafa just holds him instead, whispering soothing words in a mix of Spanish and English, fingers caressing his sides and lips covering his face, neck, chest.

“Why did she leave me?” Novak asks brokenly.

“I don’t know Nole. I’m sorry. I wish I could help you. This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have taken advantage with you like this, you’re still hurting.”

“No Raf, was incredible. Amazing, wanted you like this for so long, you don’t know. All those matches, those fucking shirts you wear and your muscles, wanted to be held down by you. Felt so good with you inside.” Novak murmurs appreciatively, showing he means it with a kiss to Rafa’s lips.

“Nole?”

He’s calming down now, now that the dam has broken. He’s sniffing and his breath is catching but he doesn’t feel completely out of control. “Mm?”

“This wasn’t just sex, was it?”

Novak wants to say yes, it’s just about the sex. He feels guilty, having pretty much forced Rafa into this knowing there was the potential that it could end up meaning more, but he would never lie to Rafa.

“No. I’m so sorry Raf, I just… I feel so lonely, without her. I need someone.”

“I can’t do this Novak, I can’t be your rebound.” Rafa sits up and shakes his head vehemently when Novak follows him.

“Then don’t be, you be whatever you like, I will take whatever you wanna give. Please Rafa.”

“You just gonna replace Jelena with me no? Is not healthy.”

“No, no Jelena. She’s gone, she left me. I’ve moved on. I want you, and I know it’s probably too soon and you probably think I’m some crazy virgin boy who got laid and is in love after but I just want you to know that. The ball is in your court.”

“I try return but you probably miss no?”

They’re both silent for a few seconds before breaking out into quiet laughter, and in that moment Novak leans forward and catches Rafa’s lips in his. “Volim te, Rafa.”

“Te amo.”

And Novak understands, because he isn’t the type of guy to go out on the town or stuff himself silly when he gets dumped, no, he throws himself into an endless stream of productivity, which involved learning Spanish this week and realising what he’s been missing all this time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Unrelated: Please help me to win a tshirt from Tomas Berdych by favouriting my tweets! 
> 
> http://tomasberdych.cz/reply/681AAB3B  
> http://tomasberdych.cz/reply/87AA38A7


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